Things I Know For Sure
by kissedagirlandilikedit
Summary: When Paddy Doyle dies, Maura inherits a legacy of blood, crime, and enemies out for vengeance. Now Maura has no choice but to learn the family business to protect the ones she loves, including a certain homicide detective who has gotten under Maura's skin in the best possible way. Mafia Rizzles!
1. The Aftermath

_i'm sorry / two words i always think after you're gone_

- feist, "so sorry"

_Things I Know For Certain:_

_Paddy Doyle is my father._

_Paddy Doyle is dead._

_Jane shot Paddy Doyle._

Maura's hands are shaking. She reads the list over twice, three times, before putting her pen down and tracing her trembling lips with a single finger. She has made lists all through her childhood and adolescence - ligaments, cell structures, the names of girls who told her she was "strange" - but what used to bring her comfort now makes her stomach shudder and her hands curl into fists. Should she cross out the "is" and change it to "was"? Can you still say that someone is your father when they're no longer living, or when they were barely present in your life at all? But there were pictures, she tells herself. He was there, even when you weren't watching. He wanted to be there. He was still your_ father, _even when he couldn't be.

She knows the list is unfinished. Looking at it now, she knows that there must be a number four, but she can barely bring herself to pick up the pen. She knows what comes next.

_Jane killed my father. _

No, she won't write it down. She can't. If she has to keep it tucked away, if it has to become another one of her secrets, she can do that. She has to do that.

Maura has a few vices she's acquired over the years. She is an occasional and very secret smoker, allowing herself a cigarette once every few weeks and only in what she would consider the worst possible circumstances, which is why she is now crouched at her windowsill and blowing smoke into the early afternoon air, her free hand fidgeting. She is aware of the damage each inhale incurs upon her lungs and nasal passages, but there's something about the way it stings her nostrils that feels satisfying, necessary. She knows Jane would probably scold her if she found out. A part of her wishes she would.

She picked the habit up when she was fifteen, and Evangeline, the tall blonde down the hall, had taught her to french inhale.

"_N'est-ce pas_?" Evangeline's lips had shone even in the darkness behind the dormitory. She cupped a second cigarette and the spark of the lighter made her green eyes gleam brighter. Maura had been silent, mesmerized. She nodded quickly and let Evangeline light her cigarette for her. She remembers how her whole body had shuddered when Evangeline's long fingers had brushed her own, and the older girl had laughed and walked back inside.

She tries it now, opening her mouth slightly, and inhaling deeply. Something about it feels silly, and the smoke catches in her throat, choking her. She coughs and puts the cigarette out in one of the houseplants, stumbles to the sink for a drink.

There is a message on her phone, and she knows it's there because she's seen it flash on the screen multiple times, and she knows who it's from, and she knows what it says, but she's been too afraid to press "delete."

_If you don't want me at the funeral, I understand. Just tell me ahead of time because I'm planning on being there...just in case you need me. J._

Maura stares at the pack of Marlboros on the counter. They were the first thing she saw behind the cashier's head, and her heart had ached a little for the red packs of Gauloises Blondes that she'd smoked that night with Evangeline. Or perhaps her heart was aching for the innocence that had come with those cigarettes, the feeling of unquenchable hope that had floated above them that night on the steps to the dormitory. Her heart had fluttered a little that night, the same way it sometimes did when she caught Jane's eye across a room, the same way it did when she watched Jane sleeping on the pillow next to her, her clothes still on, her hands folded like a child's under her face, her breath warm and familiar when Maura moved closer and -

_4. Jane killed my father._

She pulls another cigarette from the pack, goes back to the window. _They're burying my father tomorrow_, she thinks, and takes a deep breath as she brings the lighter to her face.

**R and I R and I R and I R and I**

It should not take her this long to get dressed. What the hell else do you wear to a funeral? Black shirt, black jacket, black slacks. Black shoes? Does she have black shoes? Of course she has black shoes. _Jesus Christ, Jane, you are losing your fucking mind here. _

Angela appears in the doorway, lets out a noise of disapproval when she finds her daughter in nothing but her underwear.

"Jane, we're going to be late! How are you still undressed? We need to be there early, we need to be there in case she needs anything. I don't even want to think what that poor girl's doing this morning, all by herself-"

"Constance is with her, Ma."

At Maura's request, Angela had moved back in with her daughter after Paddy's death. Angela had not protested, but once home with Jane she'd had a few things to say about the matter.

"No one should be left alone in their time of need, you know what I mean? That's not natural, not at all."

"She wants some space, Ma. That's natural, too."

Angela points to the clock on Jane's nightstand. "You keepin' track of the time?" Jane rolls her eyes in response. "Yeah, that's what I thought. How hard is it to put on clothes, Jane? You're not twelve anymore, we're not trying to wrestle you into a dress for Christmas pictures."

Jane ignores her mother, pulls on the slacks she's worn so many times before, a black tank. She tries not to think about how many times she's worn them on the job, or out to the bar afterwards, or in Maura's bed when they've accidentally fallen asleep. She tries not to think about how she takes a few days to wash those clothes sometimes, wanting to smell like Maura a little longer. _It's a comfort thing, that's all_, she tells herself. _It's about friendship or whatever._

Angela lets out a sigh and sits down on the bed. "You know, I'm not the one to blame for that little tomboy. I did my best - I got your ears pierced when you were four, and what did you do? Took them out so they'd close back up. Remember your First Communion dress?"

"Not really." Jane finds a jacket, shrugs into it. By habit, her hand goes to her waist to check for her gun. Her hand is shaking when it comes away empty.

"That's because we had to burn the thing. You got into a fight at the ceremony, dragged the Fillipelli boy into a mud puddle deeper than your knees, tore the sleeves off, and right in front of Father Peter you said "Tony, I'm gonna kick your ass!" Seven years old and you were swearing like a sailor, right in front of the priest! I thought I was going to die, I swear to you. Going to _die_."

"Tony Fillipelli? He probably deserved it. Grew up to be a real grabass." She pulls her shoes on, takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

The reflection Jane catches in her mirror stares back in exhaustion. She studies the shadows under her eyes, the slight frown that pulls her features together. This is not the woman she usually sees, or wants to see. This is some stranger wearing her clothes, going to the funeral of Maura's father. This is the stranger who killed Maura's father.

Behind her, there's a sudden hiccup, and Angela lets out a sob. She grabs Jane from behind and smothers her in a hug, Jane awkwardly bending to support the embrace.

"Jesus, Ma. What is it? We're not even at the funeral yet."

"You...you were such a good kid," Angela cries, hiccups shaking her body. "We always knew you'd do great things. I'm just so proud of you, I can't imagine being without you, and when I think about the things that could happen to you on the job, I just...I just can't do it."

"Ma, I'm fine. Look, all in one piece, I swear." Jane sighs, letting her mother envelope her in a vice grip.

"Don't let anything happen to you, you hear me? And don't let anything happen to Maura. You two need to watch out for each other."

Jane lets out a skeptical laugh. "Yeah, sure, if she'll let me."

Angela's tears come to a sudden halt. She looks up at Jane with one eyebrow raised. Jane has yet to tell her mother the logistics of Paddy's death, how it was her bullet that took him down, how she can't sleep without seeing Maura's face over her father's body, hear the venom in her voice when she spat back at Jane.

"Don't wisetalk me. I don't see why you're not there now, honestly. Doesn't seem right for two girls as close as you to stay away from each other at a time like this."

"She said she wanted space, Ma. I told you."

"That's not like Maura. She knows you'd be there for her in a second."

"Well, Maura has her quirks, and right now she wants some space, so I'm giving her space."

Angela lets go but her face remains in the classic Rizzoli staredown. Jane realizes where she and her brothers get their interrogation glares from, even if Tommy's still trying to master it. "I'm just saying, Jane. It still doesn't seem right."

"Okay, Ma. I get it. I'm just trying to respect her wishes."

_Even if she never wants to speak to me again, I'll respect her wishes._

The phone buzzes on her bed. Angela checks the caller ID and nods respectfully.

"It's your girl," she says, and moves the door. Before she leaves, she raises an eyebrow at Jane. "Didn't I tell ya?"

Jane shakes her head, shoos her mother out. Her hand is shaking as she presses "answer," her free hand balling around itself until her fingers are stroking the raised line of her scar.

"Hello?"

"Jane."

"Maura, hey. Are you...are you okay?"

"I-I...I don't want you to come to the funeral today. I've decided it would be better if you weren't in attendance. And...I've also decided..."

Jane can hear her heartbeat through her ears. She is overly aware of the sweat suddenly forming on her brow. _Shit, shit, shit._

"Jane, I'm going to leave town after this. I don't know when I'll be back, and I...I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to go after me."

"Maura, I...go after you?"

"Or contact me. I just mean...well, I'd prefer if you stayed away for a while. I'm not sure I'm ready to maintain any kind of connection with you, including a professional one."

Jane feels her knees bending, her chest throbbing. She stumbles into the bedpost, grabs the mattress for support.

"Maura."

"I'm sorry, Jane. I just...I'm sorry. Goodbye."

**R and I R and I R and I R and I**

**COMMENTS = LOVE**


	2. The Return

**author's note**: in my head, teddy martin, aka "the rookie", is played by ellen page. you'll thank me in a bit.

"_we are the ever-living ghost of what once was_

_but no one is gonna love you more than i do"_

band of horses

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

Jane's alarm goes off once, twice, three times, each ring receiving a pounding from her fist. She's gone through four alarm clocks in three months; the snooze button on this one looks like a war veteran. The third slap knocks the alarm across the room and Jane groans into her pillow. _Fuck it. Just fuck it._

Before she can cover her head with the _other_ pillow - a "Jane Sandwich" as Maura used to call it, and even just the memory of Maura gives her a hangover - Joe Friday is licking her ear. She gives her a gentle shove, curls back into the covers. She already knows that another hour won't help, even if work demands she be there in thirty. It's not worth it, just like nothing is ever worth it anymore.

"Alright, alright. You win, mutt." Jane lifts Joe Friday from the bed, tucks her under her arm as she makes her way to the kitchen, her feet still dragging. Her phone buzzes on the counter, and she grabs for it, nearly missing and sliding to the tile floor instead.

"Rizzoli, _ow_." Her ass lands squarely on one of Joe's chew toys. Fuckin' perfect.

"It's Frost. Uh, just wanted to give you a heads-up...let me see, uh, how do I put this..."

"Spit it out, Frost. Really not in the mood."

"Okay." She can hear Frost taking a sigh on the other end, and she can only guess what's coming. Triple homicide? Another Hoyt copycat? "Dr. Isles is back."

For a moment, Jane isn't sure where she is. She swallows, feels her teeth with her tongue. Everything seems to be functioning, okay. Everything is technically there.

"She's...back."

"Yeah, she'll be back in the office today. Wasn't really expecting that. I mean, we had it down that Dr. Nasir's term would end next week, but I guess she came back early, called in and said she'd be in around nine."

"Huh."

"So, uh. Are you two gonna be, you know, cool?"

"Us? Sure. I mean, uh, yeah." Jane struggles for the best - fakest - response. "Yeah, it should be fine. I've heard from her. We're on good terms." _False, false, and false. Ding ding! Tell the man what he's won, Jane. _

"Oh, good! I was calling because I wasn't sure and you being my partner and all, I figured we better stick to the bro code here and - "

"The bro code?"

"You know. Bros before hoes. Not that Dr. Isles is a ho, necessarily, but it just means I've got your back, would wingman if necessary, maybe spot you in a bar fight if the guy wasn't too huge. That kind of thing."

"That's your bro code?"

"If you disagree with the rules, they are subject to change."

"Nope, they're all yours. Go for it."

"Great. For the record, the rookie is not in our bro code. But don't tell her I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Korsak is also in the bro code."

Jane rubs her temples, letting out a long breath of air. "That's great, Frost. Any chance you could update me on our imaginary fraternity some other time? I've still gotta put on some pants before I go to work."

"Right, sorry. See you in a bit."

This is the truth: Jane looks for Maura everywhere. She looks for her in crowds, on the street, in the bars that she never went to before, the ones where girls with honey hair almost have her smile, almost have her eyes, but not quite. The memory of Maura teases her through night after night, until she thinks she sees her disappearing around every corner, leaving through every door. She's memorized her back, the slope of her shoulders, but it's the ghost of her that keeps returning. Sometimes Jane wakes at the touch of something on her lips, memories like shadows grazing her skin, her hair. She wakes in cold sweats, her breath coming too fast to keep up, every cell in her body alive and flushed with need.

Maura is gone, and yet she is everywhere. She has become inescapable. When Jane's drunk enough, she reaches for those fleeting memories, even if they take the form of a girl in heels who is never enough, who leaves after a few minutes when Jane wraps her long fingers around the skinny wrists, slurs "I was protecting you...I shot him...for..._you,_" even when the strangers slip away just as easily as the past.

And yet there's always another crime to remind her that there's still a sun, a moon, days that pass on the calendar she no longer marks. There's always another bullet lodged in a husband's temple, a teenager found crumpled in an alley, a burglary gone wrong. There's always someone crying, someone whose life will be forever altered, someone whose mistakes cannot be repaired. There's always a file on her desk to remind her that choices are irreversible, that nothing is without consequence.

Joe Friday has climbed into her lap, but her hands are trembling too much to respond. She stares at her fridge and wonders what drunken night led her to put the picture of her and Maura back on its surface, taped with clumsy hands. Their faces bright and pressed together, her arm wrapped around Maura's shoulder, a moment when she remembers being completely at ease, happy with the tiny and bright world that existed in the space between them. She has to remember to breathe just to keep looking at it.

_Shit, Maura._

"Am I going to look like a tool if I dress up for this?" She is addressing Joe Friday, who cocks her head in response. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Here we go again, little lady. Aunt Maura's gonna make me crazy."

R and I R and I R and I R and I

"Boss, you okay?"

Jane looks up from her computer screen, right into the face of Teddy Martin, not inches away from her own.

"Still learning about personal space, Martin?"

"Oh! Sorry, boss." The shorter woman steps back, bites her lip like a scolded five year old. And in Jane's presence she does tend to take on the demeanor of idolizing younger sister, a fact that Korsak and Frost have not hesitated to point out. Jane won't admit that she's taken a shine to the youngest recruit, the top of her class at the academy and still eager to please. Teddy's face is still young, betraying some of her youth but hiding the parts of her that Jane knows are hidden in her files, a father killed in a random shooting, an adolescence spent in and out of juvenile programs, a mind that works overtime and earned her high honors anyway.

"It's none of my business, but you seem a little off today." Teddy's round eyes give Jane a tentative look, but it's her intuition that Jane's starting to appreciate, from the bullet she used to bust the tire on an escaping suspect's van to the way she reads the senior officer now and detects the bristling beneath Jane's surface. Jane's shoulders adjust when she realizes the tension they must be revealing. Teddy notices, says nothing.

"Yeah, you might be onto something." Out of the corner of her eye, Jane can feel that Frost is glancing over her, and she imagines that they've all been taking turns, that they're all starting to pick up on the way her knuckles have turned to tense ridges, her mouth becoming tight and unreadable.

Here's the thing: Maura still hasn't shown up. She's late. _Late, _Jane keeps telling herself, and finds herself terrified of whatever other changes have arisen in the woman. She's starting to think about silly little narcissistic changes, things that shouldn't matter but are capable of shaking Jane to her core. What if her hair has changed? Her hair, of all things, but it's the one piece she keeps coming back to, keeps wondering on as if that's everything that matters. _What if her damn hair has changed, Jane?_ Jane imagines that it hasn't, but she doesn't know if this is because she's grown attached to the idea that Maura loves her hair as it is, or because she could not handle one inch of it shorter or longer, that the picture in her head is so perfect that it bears its own witness to her nightmares.

The clock strikes three fifteen. Frost looks back down at his desk, Korsak gets up to make coffee. Teddy leans against the half-desk she's been given and pretends to peruse a file, but Jane knows those bright eyes are still on her, taking her in, figuring out her weaknesses. Or maybe her strengths, if she's lucky. There's still a part of Teddy that very obviously admires her senior, even if the picture she's painted is not entirely accurate. _At least someone thinks I'm admirable. _

She's been to the morgue twice today. Both times, Dr. Nasir has glanced up, smiled amiably, hunched himself back over the corpse and returned to work. Both times her stomach has dropped when it's not that face, that smile, those eyes.

There's a click on the floor. Then another. Before she looks up, she knows.

"Dr. Isles, you're back." Barry's voice is warm, elated. She hears the chairs sliding across the floor as everyone else gets up, moves to the new arrival with excitement and welcome. She is still staring at her hands, frozen over her keyboard. She doesn't dare look up.

"Jane." The voice is directly behind her, and for a moment she can't move. No one else says her name like that. No one else has ever said her name like that.

She turns in her seat, and she's there. She's standing in the light, in a pencil skirt and champagne sweater and three inch heels. She's radiant. Jane has to catch her breath because she looks even better than before, stronger somehow, brighter. She didn't realize that Maura could be more beautiful, but somehow she is. Her hair is the same length, Jane notices, as if that's all that matters, as if this means it's still the same Maura, that they can go back to the time before, the beds, the bars, the touching across the table. Her hair hasn't changed, but so much else has.

"Maura, I, uh...hello." She could shoot herself for not coming up with something better. _Hello? Jesus Christ, Jane, the fuck are you thinking_, but by now it's too late. Maura isn't smiling when she looks at Jane. This is clear.

Maura's hand shoots out, her elbow awkwardly angled. Jane takes the hand, allows it to be squeezed and gently lifted once, twice. The warmth of the skin on Maura's palm pulses up her arm, into her shoulders. Jane swallows, her tongue feeling dry in her mouth.

"It's good to see you again, Jane. You look good." Maura manages the smallest smile, drops her hand.

"Yeah, you too."

Maura steps to Korsak, who gives her a one-armed hug and a grin. Jane stands very still as Maura moves on, moves away from her. It's all she can do to stay upright. Maura seems to not notice. Teddy is introduced, the rookie's eyes lighting up as they take in the full length of the ME.

"I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Isles, but the descriptions did not do you justice. And to think you come with a medical degree."

Jane had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, but Maura was laughing, blushing even. Barry directed Teddy back to her desk, swatted the back of her head.

"_Ow_, what was that for?"

"That's enough rookie. Go be a charming bastard on your own time, okay? We've got to get back to work, anyway."

"I'm sorry," Maura says. "I didn't mean to disturb, just wanted to say hello. I have to meet with Dr. Nasir and check up on things, but it was lovely to see everyone."

Hugs, a chorus of voices saying how glad they are to have her back, to see that she's well. And with that, she's gone.

"She looks good, doesn't she?" Barry is smiling to himself at his computer.

"Damn, who _was_ that?" Teddy's grinning like a kid in a candy store.

Jane is motionless. She stares at her screen for a good hour before the message appears in her inbox.

_Meet me at the bar at the Liberty, 215 Charles, tonight at 9. I think we need to talk._

_Maura_

R and I R and I R and I R and I

Reviews remind me to keep writing. Thank you so much for the love thus far! It means so much! Let me know how I'm doing ;)


	3. The Tease

**author's note:** things are about to get a little steamy, prepare yourselves. it's also about to get a bit darker, and a bit more mysterious, and there's a lot building that i won't be revealing for a while, so don't get too frustrated with the vagueness, just let it whet your appetite! i'd say this chapter would be the time to write a review, my wee lurkers :3

"_the dream that i have is always the same_

_a foot falls like an echo of a step i didn't take_

_and i see you coming in like you were never gone_

_tell me, why did i wake?_

_here in the world i was hiding from_

_they're expecting it to rain"_

emmy the great, "war"

The blonde at the bar fishes for a cigarette, her legs crossing and uncrossing. She's beautiful in a way that makes the back of your throat ache, like a breath itching for release, the dream of a sound rather than the noise itself. She's drinking a Tom Collins, which the bartender has said is their speciality. It's not, and she knows it, not because she's a connoisseur, but because her mother used to make a Tom Collins for herself every afternoon when she was a child, and then click through a slide projector of sculptures, white gods and steel shapes. The ice would clink in her mother's glass, and Maura, still too young to reach the table, would sit beneath it and stare with her mouth open, figures like myths scaling her wall and then disappearing into nothing.

"Miss, there's no smoking."

"Sorry?" Maura has the lighter to her lips, but the bartender, even with his eyes trained to her cleavage and her bright eyes, is making a face of compromise.

"You can't smoke in here. It's Massachusetts law, miss. I'm sorry."

"Right, of course. I must have forgotten."

"Are you from around here?"

"Yes...no. Sort of. It is technically my place of origin, but not where I was raised. Does that make me 'from around here'?"

The bartender shrugs sheepishly, blushes a little. There are acne scars on his cheekbones, but fresh stubble around his mouth and chin. He's still young, enamored with the beautiful woman talking to him. Maura tries to remember what it felt like to be that age, to have the whole world still seem reachable, fuckable, breathable. She envies him in some way.

She shakes her head as though clearing it, glances around the lobby once more. Jane isn't here yet._ Fine_, she thinks, takes out her compact and checks her make-up, stops herself when she realizes she's being fastidious. _Really Maura, that's enough._

This is why she wanted a cigarette: she needs to do something with her hands. Her fingers have started to tingle, the tips a little numb, the knuckles harder than usual. Her hands shake sometimes, and she will ball them into fists under tables or grip the edge of the chair a little harder on the train, or rest them on the .22 in her bag.

She keeps coming back to Jane's face, to the way she'd looked at her and Maura had nearly died, thinking of all the ways she'd rehearsed this in her mind on the trains to New York and the long walks on rainy streets, the conversations she'd constructed meticulously, the look she'd trained her face to take, the smile she'd practiced hiding. The only thing Maura had wanted to do was take that body, the long bones she knew and the skin that was always alarmingly warm, and pull it close to her, pull it so close that all the spaces between them disappeared.

For just one moment, she had wanted desperately to press up against those bones and to fuse there. She had wanted to sink into Jane, to drown and disappear and finally, finally rest.

But instead the handshake, the small smile. Had she smiled? She can't remember. Her fingers curl over her knees, tense and stretch.

The longer she thinks of Jane, the more her mind begins to drift into other, darker spaces. The look on Dean's face when she'd gone to see him in DC, the surprise, the shame. He'd limped to his couch and stared at her when she hadn't moved from the door. When she'd lifted the gun, there had been no shock in his eyes, just a small animal fear, and for a moment she imagined that she knew what he had looked like as a little boy, still toddling behind his mother.

She remembers the ride home from DC, the stop in New York, the dark bar in Hell's Kitchen where two men had sat on either side of her, passed slips of paper back and forth. Names, numbers.

"You don't have to worry no more - you're safe," one of them had said as she'd walked back to the train, and he'd clasped her shoulder with a wide palm. She'd froze in place, still not used to the contact, overly aware of the men that may have died under these same hands. "There's nothin' we wouldn't do for his little girl, you gotta know that."

"I appreciate it." She'd taken a deep breath, continued her walk. She didn't look back.

And now she isn't looking back. She's only looking forward, with eyes narrowed against the wind.

Jane is here. Strange, how she feels it before she sees her, how she simply knows. She wonders if Jane ever simply _knows. That's absurd, Maura. _But then her mind reviews cases where twins were able to share certain thoughts by seeming extrasensory communication, how women who spend enough time together can bring not only their menstrual cycles to sync, but their heartbeats as well. Science believes in love, after all.

Jane is still in her work clothes. Maura realizes she must pulled one of her longer days, even though Dr. Nasir had reported everything as normal, no new cases, no new problems. Maura bites her tongue within her closed mouth to keep herself from crying, from touching Jane's sleeve, her long fingers, her cheekbones.

"If you want to protect her," Finnegan had said at the funeral, finding her even when she had stood far from the casket, her veil down and her eyes to the floor. "...then you know what to do."

"You wanted to talk?" Whatever steel she lacked earlier, Jane has clearly been harnessing. Maura can see the long day in her irises, the exhaustion that Jane will never reveal, her mouth set in resolve. It's this strength that is so ridiculously gorgeous in Jane, and Maura had always admired it, wished she could borrow it, longed on certain nights to be wrapped up in it and made to forget everything else. But those, she thinks, were different times.

"I thought it would be necessary." Maura reaches for her glass, wraps her fingers around it so they won't noticeably shake anymore. "Do you want a drink?"

Jane doesn't respond for a moment. Maura knows that she's taking her in, examining her carefully. But she also feels the other woman's eyes lingering too long on Maura's cleavage, her long legs. She hides a smile.

"Fine." Jane pushes a stray strand of hair back into her ponytail. "Couldn't hurt. Might make this a little easier, actually."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well Dr. Isles, back in the day you always did benefit from a little social lubricant. Or whoever was listening to you, the booze tended to make it a lot easier to take in the full Maura Isles Experience." Coming from Jane, it's a challenge. It takes everything in Maura's power not to let her face respond.

Jane orders a beer, then shakes her head. "No, scratch that. You got bourbon?" she asks the bartender, and he nods. "Yeah, I'm gonna need some of that. Start me with a whiskey and soda, kid."

Maura can't hide the smile this time. "You still enjoy alcohol."

"I still enjoy anything that lets me erase the previous day."

"You look good."

"What?" Jane looks over suddenly, her eyes wider, almost hopeful.

"I just...you look good. I'm glad to see you're doing well."

Jane snorts. "Am I? You'd be the first to think that."

Maura bites her lip, runs her fingers over the wet surface of her glass. "Jane..."

"Yeah?"

"I know there's a lot to say here."

Jane's face softens a bit, her eyes filled with...shame? Sorrow? Jane can't tell. She's always been terrible at reading emotions, but Jane's used to be the easiest for her. Now she's lost in whatever Jane is feeling now, now she's reaching for that space in her heart and finding it barred to her. If she ever had the key, it's gone now.

"And what I mean, Jane, is...we don't have to say it all now. Or tonight. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I wanted that at least to be present in our conversation."

Jane downs her drink, orders another one. Maura runs her tongue over her teeth, takes a deep breath. Once Jane has finished her latest drink, she leans forward in her stool, sighs.

"Look, Maura. Let's be honest, okay? It's ridiculous that you have to act like you're apologizing to me. Really, it's just..._no_. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?"

"You don't believe that, Jane."

"No, I do believe that. I really do. You don't need to tell me where you've been for three months, even if you didn't leave a note, even if you never told me if you were okay, or safe, or anything. You don't owe me. I'm the one that should be apologizing. I...I took the shot that day. I can't tell you why I did it. In that moment, there was a gun drawn and you were standing there and I didn't think about who was holding it or who - "

"New York."

Jane halts, the next drink in midair. "What?"

"I've been in New York. New York, DC. Here, sometimes."

"You've been...here? Where? You weren't at your-"

"Not my place, but here. Around."

"Around? What the hell does that mean, _around_? You disappear for three months without a fucking trace - and as a fucking detective it says a lot that I can't trace my best friend for three months - and you say that you've been _around?_ Jesus Christ, Maura, I just-" Jane realizes she's yelling and stops herself, and Maura almost wants her to keep going. It's the first time she's let Maura through, and she just wants to grab her ribcage, dig deeper, but she won't. Jane orders another drink, hangs her head, and Maura makes a fist in her lap, counts to ten. Jane's mouth is wet, red in the light from the bar, and Maura keeps staring, staring, holding her breath.

"I'm sorry, Maur."

"It's alright, Jane. I understand."

"I know I was the one who...I know I shot your father. I know how that affected you. I know that this is all my fault. It's been hard with you gone. I've been carrying this around, trying to figure out what to do with it, and I just keep tellin' myself that if you came back and I could tell you how goddamned sorry I am, it would make sense."

"I know, Jane." Maura allows herself to reach out, to touch Jane's knee. Jane looks down at the hand on her leg, looks back up at Maura. In the moment, something floats in the air between them, heavy and potent. Jane covers Maura's hand with her own, squeezes hard, and then releases, places her hand flat on the bar.

"_Shit_. Don't...don't let me fuck this up, Maur."

"You're not fucking anything up."

Maura has been calculating Jane's blood alcohol levels since she began drinking. Judging from the rate of intake, the fact that the bartender has been making strong drinks and spent an extra half a second pouring the whiskey than the soda, the bags under Jane's eyes and her uncharacteristically thin arms meaning she's been eating less, likely from skipping meals, and that her character indicates she didn't eat today, means that she is drunk.

Out of the corner of Maura's eyes, a man sits down at the table behind Jane. He raises his eyes to meet Maura's, slides his hand into his coat. Jane tilts slightly, and Maura looks back at the woman across from her.

"Maur, I..."

"Jane," Maura puts one finger on Jane's lips. They're as wet as she thought they'd be, ridiculously warm. Jane is still, her eyes shocked and then hazy. "Jane, please stop apologizing."

"Th-there's...I'm always sorry, though."

"Let's go upstairs."

"What?" Jane's eyes, and the alcohol, betray her. She looks shocked, elated, terrified, ready. Maura finishes her drink.

"I have a room. I don't want to make a scene, so let's continue the rest of this conversation upstairs in private."

"Maur, I..."

"Would that be a problem, being alone with me?"

Jane doesn't answer. She stands up, brushes off her jacket with only a slight wobble.

"No, that's fine. I can be very professional."

"Of course you can. After you."

Jane slaps down cash to cover both their tabs, grins the old grin, the one that says she's the kind of person that'll take you and kiss you on the first date, that she'll sweep you off your feet and get cocky about it, that she's good and she knows it. Maura has to look away to hide the smiles that keep returning, the memories of this Jane, the old Jane, the one she left behind. The one she now has to protect.

They make their way to the elevator. The man is now standing at the other side of the lobby. He smiles at Maura as the doors close and Jane leans into her, both their pulses quickening.

R and I R and I R and I R and I

Jane knows she's not entirely sober right now. But she also knows that she's in Maura's hotel room, that she's on Maura's bed, that Maura is in the bathroom "straightening up," doing girly stuff or whatever, and there's a lot of reasons why this could turn into something a lot more than a conversation. There's also a lot of reasons why this shouldn't be anything but a conversation, including the fact that Maura is straight. Right? And she, Jane, is straight? Right. Sure. Okay, she's straight. Right. She is. Definitely.

Maura reappears with her jacket off, revealing a curve-hugging black dress, her cleavage in full effect. _I am a very heterosexual person, _Jane is reciting to herself, _I love penis and men and body hair. Absolutely. She is not attractive to me because I am heterosexual._

"I'd offer you another drink but I feel like you don't need one anymore."

Jane laughs, sits up. "Yeah, I'd say that, uh, the social lubricant is definitely working."

"Do you feel properly lubricated, detective?"

_I am so heterosexual that I would never ever want to have sex with a woman, even if she had the juiciest ass and the most fantastic rack and legs that go on for-fucking-ever. Absolutely not._

Maura has taken a seat on the other side of the room. She slides down in her chair, crosses her legs. The look she gives Jane is questionable in intention, and Jane's already passed go when it comes to sobriety so she's already having trouble with the whole body signals thing.

Maura's skirt slides up her thigh. Jane almost known.

_God fucking damn fucking everything I am so not heterosexual._

"Jane, there's something I need to tell you."

Wait. Now, really? Oh god, she can do this. She can totally do this. _I knew it! I fucking knew it. Maura Isles you are so into me, it's so totally obvious, and I am drunk enough that I will fuck you right here if you ask for it so thank you for goddamn asking for it. _

"Okay. There's something I need to tell you, too."

"Really?" Maura raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. Jane could just about come looking at that mouth, the corner arched just so, the hidden tongue already a tease in her mind. Jane has to concentrate just so her breath doesn't speed up and give her away.

"Yeah, really."

"Why don't you go first, then?"

"I mean, I think...uh, I think we are going to say the same thing."

"Really?" Maura's eyebrow seems more genuinely confused this time, but Jane keeps going.

"Yeah, I mean...look, I know how long we've known each other. I know that we've been through a lot. I know that you know that, uh...you mean the world to me. You're just about everything I've got, and I..."

Maura's face is suddenly skeptical. "Jane, you're still drunk, remember."

"Naw, I'm...I'm pretty sober. Look, just let me finish. I...okay, Maura, you know how I feel, right?"

"...about?"

"About you? You know that I just...I think you're the fucking sun and the moon and all that shit, you're like all the fucking planets put together just floating around above me, just like, lighting up my life and everything. So I wouldn't just, you know, like...I wouldn't risk fucking that up because I don't...I wouldn't be able to live without you. I know that because these last three months have just been fucking hell, okay, they've just...I haven't been a fucking person since you left."

"Jane-"

"No, just trust me, okay? I know you probably already know this, but I really fucking like you, and I just...I mean it's pretty obvious why you asked me out for drinks tonight.

"It is?"

"Come on, Maur. I was born at night, but not last night, you know? Right? I was...uh, see, drinks at a bar, after work? In the hotel where you just happen to have a room? A room with a bed? Come on. You're not even trying to be subtle."

Jane can't read Maura from all the way over here on the bed, but she's hoping and praying that's not a look of confusion she's seeing. She's begging baby Jesus himself that she's just too drunk to recognize the elation and arousal on Maura's face.

Maura stands. She walks over to the bed. She sits next to Jane, and she leans in. Jane is taking shallow breaths now, Jane is a few feet off the ground.

"Jane, I know where you're going with this."

"Y-yeah?" Jane leans closer.

"I know things have changed, but they haven't changed that much."

"I know. Right? Yeah."

"No, Jane. I mean that things haven't changed. I still...I can't just..."

"Maura." Jane places both hands on either side of Maura's neck. She can feel the other woman's pulse beneath her fingertips, suddenly racing. And with that, she kisses her.

It's exactly how she thought it would be, and yet it's completely different, beyond any sense of expectation. Maura's mouth tastes like gin, and her tongue is smooth against Jane's, and when Jane's hands move to Maura's front, the bright heat of her breasts under Jane's aching fingers, Maura pushes forward, allows herself to be lifted, pulled down onto the bed. Jane's on top of her, straddling her, her mouth hungry as ever, biting her neck, her collarbone, the place behind her ear that she's always wanted to kiss, to taste, and now it's better than she's ever imagined, she's more beautiful than she ever thought, she every single thing you ever wanted as a kid but knew you'd never get. Jane's losing her mind in this woman, losing herself in this perfect fucking body. Drunk or not, she's gonna drown in Maura right now.

"Jane, I..." Maura moans into her ear, fingernails clawing at Jane's back, digging into her shoulder blades. And then she's rolled Jane over, ripped her shirt over her head, revealed a black garter belt, a lacy push-up that leaves nothing to the imagination. Maura is straddling Jane, and Jane is in fucking heaven. Handcuffs are seemingly produced from thin air. Jane literally groans at the sight of them.

"Jane, I-"

There's a pounding at the door. Jane nearly jumps off the bed but Maura stays balanced on her, her eyes narrowing. She climbs off of her, reaches into her bag for something Jane can't see. The pounding continues.

Jane sits up, painfully turned on and thus more alert than ever.

"What is it, Maur?"

Maura gives her a look, lifts a finger to her lips.

"Maura, I'm serious-"

"Be quiet."

Jane's instincts have her on her feet, grabbing for the phantom holster at her waist, but suddenly Maura's at the door and it's a fucking _gun _in her hands.

"Is that a fucking gun?"

"I said be quiet, Jane!"

"Yeah, but that's a fucking gun!"

"Jane!" Maura is suddenly on top of her, her mouth on Jane's. Just as Jane is reaching for her, her body bucking on instinct, there's a click. Jane looks down. Maura has handcuffed her to the bed. "Behave, Jane." Maura hisses, and then disappears into the hall in her underwear, gun ready.

Jane stares at the wall for a moment, her mouth hanging open, still stunned. She is mostly unable to take in what has just happened, partly because sobriety is only now just hitting her, and partly because the image of Maura Isles in a bra and thong, gun and breasts blazing, is a lot to take in. She is waiting for gunshots, and yet the alcohol has impaired her ability to be too worried or upset. So she is still staring at the mediocre hotel wall art when the last of the booze kicks in, and everything gets a bit dark.

R and I R and I R and I R and I

Jane opens her eyes to the sound of a vacuum, and the clicking of keys in the door. _The fuck am I? _She groans at the light coming through the window, the sudden headache that hits her even when she turns away. She tries to roll over but her arm seems to be stuck behind her. On further inspection, she is handcuffed to the bed. Not her bed, either. Or her room.

The door opens and a maid's cart rolls in. When the maid steps around the other side of it, she sees Jane and begins to shriek.

Jane holds up a hand, attempts to silence her. "Noises..._loud noises_..." she whispers, plugging her ear with her free hand.

"_Ay! Dios mio ayudame!"_

"Ma'am, please. I'm a police officer. Everything is fine. I just...appear to be detained to this bed."

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and luckily it's on the side she can reach. While the maid has run out of the room still screaming, Jane answers it.

"Rizzoli."

"Rizzoli! Where the hell are you? Cavanaugh is having a fit." Barry sounds particularly cheerful today. "I told him you were sick, but he's starting to lose it."

"Frost, look. I'm in a bit of a situation here-"

"It's almost noon and I've been trying your phone for three hours. We've got a new case and if you're not in by the next hour, he's gonna fry your ass for the whole station to see, you get me?"

"Okay, well. I'm going to just...get out of bed...and then I'll be there as soon as possible."

"You're in bed? Oh come on, man! That's not even fair."

"I'm...in a bed, yes. I'm just...I'm a little stuck at the moment, so."

"Are you banging someone right now?"

"No!"

"Are you banging some dude?"

"No, Frost. Jesus."

"Oh, right. You probably into the ladies, right?"

"Frost, stop. No. I'll explain some other time. I will be there as soon as possible. Thanks for covering for me."

"Hey, of course. Bro code."

"Sure, right."

Jane hangs up, dials a number she's had memorized since the day she learned it.

"Dr. Maura Isles speaking."

"Good morning," Jane grinds her teeth, has to keep from speaking through gritted ones. "I trust you slept well."

"Jane? How are you? You're late for work today."

"Really? Shocking. Especially to you. Hey Maur, you got a key by any chance?"

Maura's voice is as sugary sweet as ever. "What kind of key, dear?"

"Hmm, Maur. I don't know. Maybe one that _unlocks some handcuffs_."

There's a pause.

"I missed you, Jane."

Jane is grinning in spite of herself. "Yeah? You got a damn funny way of showing it."


	4. The Secrets

**author's note: **thank you so much for all of the reviews and support! i've gotten a lot of sweet private messages and i will get back to all of you in time, i swear, i've just been very busy this week and just barely got this chapter out. keep the reviews coming, they are darling and mean everything to me :3

"_love is drowning in a deep well_

_all the secrets and no one to tell"_

u2, "drowning man"

On the ride to the precinct, she's thinking about all the things Maura doesn't know about her. She's trying to count these things in her head, partly because she wants to prove to herself that she hasn't given herself entirely, that there are still little parts reserved for just her and not the woman who has so suddenly shifted the arc of her world, and partly because there seems to be a lot she doesn't know about Maura. Maura, who couldn't pack a punch a few days before the shooting, masterfully handling a gun, confident and protective, very much in charge. Maura on top, Maura sexually charged and demanding and insistent. Maura handcuffing her to the bed. _Handcuffing her to the bed._

Her Maura, Jane's Maura, who not only cried at the end of Titanic, but at every scene where Jack and Kate interacted.

"Their love is just so beautiful," she'd wept into Jane's bewildered shoulder, and then reached across her for the tissues. "D-don't you think so?"

"I think there is a significant lack of guns and car chases in this movie, so I don't know why we're still watching it. Unless there is a giant explosion when the Titanic sinks and like, fighter jets or something, I'm gonna feel like this was a real waste of time."

Maura had sat up slightly at this point, paused the DVD so she could look Jane in the eye; the look itself was Classic Maura Disappointment/Disbelief.

"Jane, are you trying to tell me that given the opportunity to spend even a few days with the love of your life, even if you were only allowed those few days, you wouldn't take it?"

"Would I have to die at the end of those days?"

"Does it matter? This is the love of your life. This is_ true love, _Jane."

"Aren't you the one who's always telling me about how love is just a bunch of hormones and nerves and the human impulse to pass on their genetics? Something, something scientific, something?"

"Oh my god," Maura's jaw dropped, but her eyes were still playful. "You don't believe in love."

"Okay, that's not true. I never said that."

"You don't believe in_ true love_. I bet you don't believe in love at first sight, either."

"For a smart lady, Maura, you've embraced some pretty childish notions. You kinda sound like an adolescent girl right now. Next you're going to tell me you read Twilight-"

"I attempted it, but I couldn't overlook the weak prose and horrific lack of character development or depth of narrative."

"I've always said that a woman is only as good as her depth of narrative."

"Jane, you really need to be more open to love. It's only going to hurt you later on."

"Right, well." Jane reached around Maura for the remote, grabbing another beer at the same time. "This has been a wonderful conversation, but I'm suddenly fascinated by what's happening to Leo in this scene-"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Maura, if I want to talk about love, or true love, or whatever the hell you want to call it, I'll tell you. You'll be the first to know about my experiences with that particular emotion. Okay? But now is not the time."

But that was another time, a past time, a past version of them both. And as for love, well. Jane is trying not to think about love right now, especially since that particular four letter word has been far too close to the tip of her tongue lately, a weight in the back of her throat that suddenly springs to consciousness whenever the thought of Maura crosses her mind. But by no means is she ready to face _that _particular conclusion.

Maura is in the driver's seat. The smile on her lips is far too knowing for Jane's liking. She glances back out the window, tries to focus.

Okay, Jane. Let's think.

Things Maura doesn't know:

Maura doesn't know that Jane carries a rosary in the back pocket of her slacks out of habit, that she pretends to have been dragged into Catholicism like any other Italian girl, but that she still draws some quiet comfort from the rituals, that she finds herself saying a Hail Mary when she least expects it, the prayer rolling from her lips like instinct, like blood from a wound. Maura doesn't know Jane went to confession a few days after the shooting, that she begged for God's forgiveness as if it mattered more to her than Maura's. It didn't. It doesn't. It probably never will, as nothing seems to matter to her as much as Maura does anymore.

Maura doesn't know that Jane kissed a girl in college, or that she kissed this girl many more times, and almost did more until Jane backed away, got herself a boyfriend who repaired cars, kept things simple and stupid. Maura doesn't know that Jane convinced herself that this was how she liked it, this simplicity and stupidity, but she's looked up that girl and all she knows is she lives in Denver, she's a successful lawyer and when she smiles in the pictures Jane could find online, she looks happy, looks content with her life in a way Jane cannot claim to have felt, to understand.

Maura doesn't know that Jane knows the shadow of certain inexhaustible fears, that she still wakes up sweating with Hoyt's name on her lips, that she still dreams that she is under his scalpel, her hand sliced over and over again.

Maura doesn't know that Jane once dreamed that she had a son with honey hair who skipped sidewalk cracks and swung between the hands of his parents.

"What are you thinking about?"

Jane's reverie is broken by the interruption, and she turns to Maura, who is smiling as she drives. _That damn smile_.

"Why do _you_ look so smug?"

"No reason." Maura's grin widens. "Okay, I'm sorry, I just can't stop thinking about how you looked."

"How I looked when?"

"How you looked when I walked into the room. The expression on your face when I unlocked the handcuffs. I'm sorry, Jane. It was...absolutely priceless."

"Well, you're welcome to explain my tardiness to everyone if you're so entertained by it."

"Oh, no." Maura's face suddenly hardens. "Actually, Jane. I need to be serious. This stays between us."

"The handcuffs rescue?"

"What happened last night. I'd really prefer it if you didn't share that with anyone else."

"By what happened, you mean you charging out the door sans clothing, or the reason you weren't wearing any clothing?"

"I just think that it's best for now if we keep up our previous appearances-"

"As enemies? Jesus, Maura, I'm not gonna keep pretending that you're mad at me. I couldn't deal with it when it was for real, faking it is just gonna be a pain in the-"

"Jane, I just don't think it's a good idea. Last night was-"

"Yeah, so when are we gonna talk about last night, anyway? You wanna tell me where you learned to handle a gun, or I don't know, where you disappeared to when there was all that knocking on the door?"

Maura shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. I wasn't that drunk, Maur. You don't remember taking off your clothes and running after whoever was trying to visit after hours? Don't try to bullshit me.

"Jane, you'd had an awful lot to drink last night. I'm not sure you know what you're talking about."

"How did I end up handcuffed to the bed last night?"

"You did that to yourself when you were playing with your handcuffs. You very intoxicated, I couldn't stop you. I really didn't have any involvement. I don't think your memory is accurate."

Jane's jaw drops in disbelief. "Maura. Seriously. I mean, seriously. Really?"

"We're here."

And that's the last thing Maura says to her. She parks the car and hurries into the building, heels clicking away, perfect ass swaying up the stairs and disappearing behind the door, and Jane sits stupefied for another minute, catching her breath.

She wishes she knew what the hell was going on. She wishes she knew where she'd lost track of the situation. And she really wishes she knew this new Maura as well as she'd known the old one, because this one was starting to get on her fucking nerves.

She grabs Teddy once she gets inside. The rookie beams up at her, her short hair pushed over her forehead like a teenage boy's.

"Martin, I need you to do me a big old favor."

Teddy nods eagerly. "Sure, boss. What's up?"

"I want you to run a check on 215 Charles Street, anything between the hours of 11PM and 1AM last night. Disturbances, gunshots, any reports you can find, I don't care how small."

"How far should I go?"

"Three block radius should do it. You get that done, and you bring that straight to me when you've got it, okay? No sharing along the way."

"No problem, boss."

"Between you and me, rookie. My eyes only. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." Jane turns back to her computer screen, types a name into the database. "If you want to play it your way, Maura, we'll play it your way. Fine by me."

R and I R and I R and I R and I

By the time Maura gets home, it feels like years since she's stepped into her foyer, since she's felt the familiar tile under her feet. She moves through the darkness, relying on memory, until she finds the switch on the kitchen wall, takes a deep breath as she turns the lights on.

A man is standing on the other side of her kitchen, arms folded across his chest.

Maura lets out a shriek, her hand going to the knife in the holder beside the sink. The man laughs, holds up a hand.

"Aye, only Paddy Doyle's daughter would have it down to a knife fight."

"Jesus Christ, Finnegan. I could have killed you." She drops the knife onto the counter, tries to catch her breath. Her hands are still shaking, much more visibly now. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Can't really be seen ringing the doorbell, can I?"

"Standing in the dark in my kitchen isn't any better."

"Ain't no FBI in here though, are there? Much safer to give you a wee surprise and call it even."

"I don't even want to know why you got in. I'm going to remind you for the last time that when I agreed to this, I was promised privacy, and breaking into someone's house is not privacy."

"Wasn't technically a break-in, lass. Why have you got a key labeled "J" on your back step?"

"That's none of your business, Finnegan. Anyway, I'm surprised you have the gall to show up here after last night."

Finnegan raises an eyebrow. "Last night?"

"I went to the hotel so I _wouldn't_ be followed, and then one of your men decides to come to my door-"

"Lass, we're always going to be watching over you, you might as well accept that. You're Doyle's girl, an' that's just how it is. And we had Keegan there last night, yes, but he was in the lobby all night. Checked in with me at three, said you hadn't come down yet. He stayed there. Ain't nobody came to your door, lass."

"Someone came to my door a few minutes after midnight, knocked frantically. When I went out, they sprinted down the hall. I tried to stop them but I couldn't catch them. I wasn't dressed for...running."

"That's news to us. Wasn't one of our boys." Finnegan's face darkens momentarily, but his standard lopsided grin quickly masks it. _Always playing the clown, _she thinks, but knows it hides a much darker interior. "I'll have to check in with them and see who else been lookin' over the Doyle girl. Might be there's some asses in need of floggin'."

Maura turns her back to him, begins filling her sink. "And you're sure it wasn't one of yours."

"Without question, lass. They all answer to me, and I answer farther up, and the system is as airtight as airtight can be. Ain't no one who would step outside of it, and even if they did, we'd know the moment it happened."

"Why would they come to my door, then? And then run off? Why were they drawing me outside if there was no one there to face?"

"Well, you are Paddy Doyle's girl, which means there's at least a few invested in your life, some because we owe it to Paddy, and some because your life is worth a few dollars to them. Doyle had his enemies, same as us all, and they'd see your life as worth a few other things."

Maura's hands are forming fists without her consent. Anything to stop the shaking, but she's afraid of this anger that has overtaken her lately, this lack of control when faced with the thought of danger.

"This is ridiculous. I thought you were watching me to _protect _me from those sorts of things. The whole point of this exercise in Big Brother is so that we are _not_ dealing with midnight visitors."

"Keegan said you weren't alone last night."

"Like I said earlier, none of your business."

"We know it was her, Maura."

Maura can feel herself tensing, and she turns back to Finnegan. His smile is less convincing now.

"And if it was her?"

"We can protect you, but there ain't much we can do for her. She's not under our laws, you understand? And you know that price on her head ain't our business, either. The Italians can do what they want, we get along with them for profit only. When they get their own bad ideas, we leave 'em to it."

"Are you saying that I'm endangering her?"

"You're endangering yourself by associating with her. I'd bet more than a few that your visitor was meant for her, not you."

"What can I do?"

"Not sure what you mean, lass."

"To protect her. I don't want to leave her alone, but I'm afraid she's going to suspect-"

"The best thing you can do is stay as far away as you can. Your friend killed Paddy Doyle. If you think there aren't gonna be consequences for her, same as anyone else, then you don't understand your father's line of work yet."

"I'm his daughter and you answer to me, don't you? If I say to protect her, don't you have to obey me?"

Finnegan's smile twists into a frown. "I obey what Paddy set down as law, and that was to defend and protect his daughter, same as he always did. Paddy was as dear to me as my brothers, and we all feel that way, and ain't none of us gonna stand up to protect his killer. Ain't never done it, don't care what the circumstances are. She's lucky we're not trying to kill her. Any other case and the murdered would be dead by now."

"That isn't justice. And she was doing her job, she was obeying her orders-"

"Aye, lass, but I'd be disobeying orders if I helped her. That's the way it has to be." Finnegan turns to the back door, gives her one last grin. "I've been here too long already. I'll check in soon."

"Are you going to take the front door this time?"

"Ah, no. Same rules apply, lass. Have a good night, now."

Maura stands in the kitchen long after he's left. Her hand goes to the phone, and she knows exactly what number she should dial, but she can't bring herself to press the numbers, doesn't even know if her voice will work when she needs to speak.

What Maura is starting to realize is that she'd probably take a bullet for Jane. She might even die for her. And the opportunity to do just that is suddenly becoming a terrifying reality.

_Damn it. _She dials.

"Maura? What time is it?"

"Jane, I'm sorry. I know it's late. I just..."

"No, it's, uh...it's fine. What...what do you want?"

"Please don't laugh, I know you hate this movie. And I agree, it's not the most realistic depiction of the tragedy and it does rely on an overly simplistic and romantic notion of-"

"I honestly have no idea where you're going with this, Maur."

"Do you remember when we watched Titanic?"

"Maura?"

"I would let you take the raft. I would make sure you survived. I wouldn't...I won't let anything happen to you, Jane, even that means I drown."

"Maura, I...I'm not really sure why you're telling me this."

"I know I haven't been entirely forthcoming lately, and I know that must frustrate you. I need you to trust me, okay? I need you to promise me that you'll trust me."

"I..."

"I'll protect you, but I need you to let me protect you."

There's a sigh from the other end of the line.

"Fine."

"Oh, that's good. Okay. Well, that's...that's all, so, uh, sweet dreams, Jane."

"Maur, I-"

She hangs up while her resolve is still high. She sinks against the cabinets, slides to the floor. She only lets herself cry for a few minutes. Maura has much more to do than cry.


	5. The Hidden

"_we're concentrating on falling apart_

_we were contenders, we're throwing the fight_

_but i just wanna believe, i just wanna believe_

_i just wanna believe in us"_

brand new, "okay i believe you but my tommy gun don't"

Teddy pulls Jane aside on Thursday, hands her a file. It's been one of those days where the small things have begun to add up, and Jane takes too many walks downstairs just to pass by the glass windows, just to see if she'll look up. When she does, and their eyes meet, Maura's lips lifting into that tiny and knowing smile, Jane's palms are suddenly slick, her temples pounding, and she waves quickly, forces herself to go back upstairs, to act as if she is following some sort of routine. To pretend, against all pretenses, that there is nothing out of the ordinary in what the last few days have presented, in what the sight of Maura now stirs.

"Got what you asked for, boss."

Jane raises an eyebrow, sifts through the pages within. Teddy's usually close on her heels, a puppy looking for a treat, but this week she's been uncharacteristically distant, a change Jane is secretly grateful for, a small respite from the usual barrage of attention when Jane's feeling her own guard shattering slowly.

"Sorry it took me so long," Teddy points to one of the documents, her voice lowering. Jane can't help but think that this sense of conspiracy is a source of secret glee for the rookie. "There were a couple reports in the vicinity that night - vandalism, noise complaints, typical neighborly stuff. They're all here, but this one seemed the most out of place. Anyway, I think this is what you're lookin' for. Hotel guest filed a report that they heard gunshots right at the time you asked for. Went to her window because she thought they were outside, saw somebody running to the back of the building and get in a car. She told the staff, and they filed a report."

"Why isn't her name here?"

"Don't know. That's not all that was odd. When I called the hotel, they said the employee who had filed the report for her quit two days ago. His name's here, Diego Salva. I tried to talk to the manager, but they didn't want to comment on anything else."

Jane bites her lower lip, scans the report one more time. "What are you doing this afternoon, Teddy?"

"Paperwork, boss. Maybe get a sandwich, I don't know. There's this cute girl at the place down the street, and I figure if I just keep buying the same thing from her, she'll-"

"Give me an hour, and then clear your schedule. I need a right hand man this afternoon. You'll have to do."

Teddy's face barely manages to hide the elation.

R and I R and I R and I R and I

Maura's first mistake is smoking on the back steps. Because of course fate would have it that Jane is the one who comes bursting out of the door, who nearly trips over her and then nearly trips again when she realizes who it is that's chainsmoking beside the dumpsters like a guilty teenager. She shouldn't blame fate, as coincidence is still mathematically predictable. She should blame herself for lacking the foresight that during a difficult week, Jane tends to come out here for fresh air, that they would eventually cross paths if Maura kept coming out for a cigarette.

Or maybe some small and silent part of her knew that's exactly what would happen, fought for that opportunity like a moth fighting for light.

Jane's catching her breath from the shock, her chest heaving. She leans against the brick wall, one hand on her hip. "Smoking's not good for you."

"I'm aware, Jane."

"I'd list statistics, but you of all people probably have a handle on the numbers."

Maura attempts to keep her composure, letting out a controlled stream of smoke. "Do you know what I've come to understand about smoking?"

Jane blinks, her body tense. Maura can tell from the way she's leaning forward, the way her body is fighting for its impulses, that Jane would sit down next to her, would naturally fall into place beside her on the steps, but there's a new wall of uncertainty there, a questioning of her own desires. Maura slides over ever so slightly, as if to say that it's alright.

"I've come to understand that no one smokes because they are under some false impression that it's not unhealthy. I think most people smoke precisely because they know it will kill them. Most people don't mind the damage. If anything, they need it."

Jane's eyes widen slightly, and then spark. Her limbs seem to give in, and she lowers herself onto the step next to Maura.

"Just don't make it a habit, okay?"

Maura laughs, a sad and lonely noise. "A habit is a repeated tendency that is especially difficult to give up. This is already a habit, Jane."

"Maybe you should find another habit, something healthier."

"What, you mean alcohol?" Maura realizes too late the sting of her words. Jane draws momentarily back as if wounded, makes a face. Maura touches her knee, the same knee she reached for at the bar. "I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't-"

"You got another one?"

"Another what?"

"Another cigarette." Jane is holding out her palm, her eyes suddenly challenging. "We're all on our way out anyway, right?"

Maura reaches for the pack of Camels in her pocket, almost embarrassed to hand it over. Jane pulls one out, lets Maura light it for her. The exchange of hand to mouth, the glance between them as Jane expels a stream of smoke and locks her eyes with Maura's, is all too much. If Maura was the fainting type, Maura would have fainted by now. But she is not, and Jane is not the type to come out and say it when she's too stubborn to admit it to herself, and Maura is not the type to lean over when maybe that's all she needs, so they sit there. They sit with their legs gingerly touching and quietly smoke.

"You know what I can do?" Jane says, and then blows a perfect smoke ring into the air. Maura smiles, lances it with her finger.

"I thought you said smoking was unhealthy."

"I smoked in high school. Not cigarettes. The greener stuff." Jane laughs at this, and Maura laughs, too, because something about that gesture with them is always infectious. "One time I was smoking with this girl from my biology class, Cindy Nelson. We were supposed to be studying, but she showed up and said she had a better idea. I was trying to show off and tell her I was allowed to smoke in my room."

"Angela would never allow that."

"Oh, trust me. I know. I knew then too, but Cindy was...I don't know, I wanted to impress her. So we smoke up, and we're laughing and being idiots, and guess who walks in?"

Maura's still laughing, leaning closer to Jane, the air between them warm and smoky. "Please don't tell me it was your mother."

"Nope, it was my brothers. Both of 'em. Wanted to know who Cindy's dealer was. Fucking idiots."

"Did your mother ever find out?"

"No. Never found out, and I don't know that I'll ever tell her. One of the few secrets I've managed to keep all these years."

"But you're so good at keeping secrets." Maura knows she's teasing, knows her voice has floated into the flirting octave, and Jane's playing right back, her eyes glinting in just the right way. Maura knows it could become dangerous fast, but she lets it happen. That's Maura's second mistake.

"What's the biggest secret you've ever kept?"

Maura rolls her eyes at Jane, smiles that smile. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

Jane gives her a little shove with her shoulder. "You always play by the rules, don't you?"

"Maybe." Maura takes a deep breath, puts the stub of a cigarette out on the brick beside her. "Why did you come back here, Jane?"

"What?" Jane blinks, the cocky grin fading a little.

"You come back here by yourself when something's getting to you. You weren't expecting to find me, and had I not been here you would have paced for a while until you felt well enough to return to your desk. What's happened?"

Jane shrugs, takes a long drag.

"Nothing, really. Just needed some fresh air."

"This is one of your habits, and your habits are fueled by triggered reasons, always the same theme. The same reasoning has to apply."

"Or maybe I don't want to talk about it. Maybe there's a good reason why it's a private habit."

"I'm sorry." Maura wonders if she should pull out another cigarette, hesitates when she sees Jane's free hand trembling slightly. "Are you cold?" She takes her hand, wraps it between her palms. That is Maura's third mistake.

"Look, Maura..." Jane's voice trails off, and there's a cigarette in her other hand, and there's no one in the back alley, no one to witness the way that Jane's hand, pressed between Maura's hands, is lifted to Maura's chest, placed between her breasts. Maura's mouth makes a small oh of surprise, and then she makes her fourth mistake. Maura lifts that hand to her lips, kisses the tips of the fingers, the hard lines of the palm, the center crease that defines Jane's heart line.

When she realizes what she's doing, she drops Jane's hand, bites her lip as if to stop it from wanting more.

"I'm sorry," she says, places her palms firmly against the cool stone of the steps. "I don't know why I did that. I think I'm just tired. I never sleep anymore, I just-"

"I don't sleep either." Jane says quietly, takes another long drag of the cigarette. Her eyes are focused on her lap, and Maura wants nothing more than to finish that kiss, to tell her it's all going to be okay, that nothing will happen to them. But that would be a lie, and even a kiss can't hide the truth.

"I have to go back and finish those tests," Maura says, stumbles to her feet. Jane follows, kills the cigarette beneath her heel.

"I'll be out for the afternoon." Jane holds the door open for her, and Maura slips under her arm, her shoulder brushing Jane's chest. They both freeze at the contact, and then Maura hurries past, makes her way down the hall, knowing that Jane must be watching, that she must be far too aware of the way she moves, the way she cannot ever escape.

Fuck, Maura thinks, and suddenly itches for another cigarette.


	6. The Deal

"_i keep a service bell by my bed for you_

_let the others do what they do_

_i will hold on"_

feist & grizzly bear, "service bell"

Jane reaches into her cupboard, pulls down an empty mug, fishes around until she finds the whiskey. There is a moment in which she hesitates, in which her muscles freeze around the bottle and then pulse at the memory of Maura's hand on her knee, the look in her eye when her lips had touched Jane's fingertips, her breath so warm on her palm that it could have been grazing skin against skin.

She makes a fist with her free hand. In grade school, they teach you that your heart is the same size as your fist. Jane has seen autopsies, and she's seen crime scenes where hearts were left beside bodies like afterthoughts, lonely as strays. The grade school teachers were mostly right, give or take a few ounces. Jane could carry her heart in her hand, the same size as the fist her other would make. But Jane knows better than to keep her heart out in the open, waiting to be plucked from between her fingers, or dropped in a rush, lost.

Teddy had said something this afternoon that had gotten to her, something about Maura and Jane that had tripped her up, made her pretend to observe a streetlight at least three more times, her heart racing. They'd just gotten back from trying to talk to Diego Salva, whose wife had insisted he was out of town. Jane was frustrated by the dead lead, her eyes on the road, her fingers drumming the steering wheel. It felt like a deliberate road block in what should have been an easy conversation, and too obvious of a move. Someone was playing with her, and she hated that more than anything, more than the vision of Paddy Doyle bleeding out that haunted her eyelids right before sleep, more than not knowing if Maura was ever going to be close to her again, more than not knowing how to protect the people she loved. And it all came back to Maura.

Teddy remained still in the passenger seat, and quietly observed before interrupting the silence.

"Girl problems, right?"

"Tell me about it." Jane hadn't entirely processed the question though, and caught herself. "Wait, what girl problems?"

"You know, girl problems. You've had that look in your eye for a few weeks, and it's a pretty familiar look. Hung up on a girl, girl being a typical girl, girl problems."

"Hung up on a...wait, rookie. You think I'm...?"

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Hung up on a girl is pretty common, we've all dealt with it. We could even, uh...talk about it if you wanted. I mean, it's cool with me, boss. Obviously it's cool with me, I'm gayer than a three dollar bill. I'm gayer than a softball coach on a flying unicorn. I'll talk about girl problems until the unicorns fly home."

"Look, Teddy. I'm not - "

"It's cool, boss. I know you and Dr. Isles had a thing. I assume it ended kind of bad, but that's how those kind of things usually go, you know? Workplace entanglement...never a great idea."

Jane's palms are slick against the steering wheel. She licks her lips, keeps her eyes on the road. "Where did you hear that?"

"I mean, no one's been talking about it, don't worry. Frost and Korsak are fucking morons most of the time, but they're professional about that kind of shit. I just figured it out from the way you two were acting. And like, no offense boss, but it's pretty obvious there's still a lot of feeling there, and if that's who you're so hung up on, no shame, yeah? We all get stuck in those kinds of places."

Jane says nothing. She's studying the road as if an answer is about to leap into the street, bury itself into the grill. Her body's starting to seize up like a fever, her head overheating. If Teddy notices, she continues like nothing is different.

"Look, I'll tell you what. You want me to set you up with some girls? I know a lot of single ladies in your age range, and they're all pretty great. Since you've got that super smart blonde with a great ass type, I'll see if I can send some similar picks your way, okay?"

Jane manages a laugh, shakes her head. Teddy smiles too, but only for a moment. Then her voice drops into seriousness once more.

"And there's another thing, boss."

"Yeah, what?"

"Back when I was at the academy, I knew this girl. We were pretty good friends, and she was a good trainee, somebody that people liked, trusted. I figured out after a while that she was stealing. Not too much, just petty cash from gym gear, maybe a watch or two. See, her family had left her with nothing, kicked her out when she was younger. She had nothing but this job, and falling on hard times meant that she was turning to other means. Robberies started escalating, and she was taking a lot more money than before. I really liked her. She was someone who had been there for me in some shit times, and by all rights I probably owed her. I could have protected her and just sat back and let them figure it out on their own if they ever came to it, but I didn't."

Jane bites her lip. "What did you do?"

"I reported her, and she got kicked out of the academy. I ruined her life, or at least made it a hell of a lot harder than it was before, which was already pretty damn hard. I live with that knowledge everyday, and I know that I have to keep living with it as a responsibility to the decision itself. But I've learned from it, and I was already learning when I reported her."

"That's quite the story, rookie."

"It's the truth, and it's important. Because this job isn't about doing what's best for everyone. It's about doing what's right."

Jane pours just enough whiskey into the glass to put herself to sleep in an hour. She is trying not to think about the fact that she never sleeps anymore, or sleeps too long and too heavily, when the phone on her counter buzzes.

The screen says 'Maura.' She holds her breath, counts to five before reaching for it. She stops herself, steps away as if it's been set on fire. "Christ's sake, Jane" she curses, and then takes a swig of the whiskey, answers the phone.

"Hey."

"Jane? It's me."

"Hi, uh, I...what is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. I just...I thought I should apologize for earlier."

"Maura, look. It's fine."

"Are you free to talk right now? In person?"

"Yeah, but I-"

"Good, because I'm outside. Can you let me in?"

Jane lets out a lungful of air, steadies herself. "Yeah, okay."

And indeed, Maura is at the door. She's still in her work clothes, or what would be considered work clothes by Maura and Maura only - camel heels and a dress that Jane already knows zips all the way up the back because she's watched her walk away, watched her in a way that was simultaneously sad and arousing.

"Hi," Maura says quietly, and Jane steps to the side, allows her to walk past. There is a moment in which Maura remains awkwardly still, waiting for Jane's direction, but they settle for the couch, beside each other like earlier on the back steps, the inch between them suddenly as wide as a mile.

"It looks nice," Maura says, glancing around the room, and Jane realizes the whiskey is still in her hand, slides it across the side table and out of view. "It's like coming home in some ways, being here again. My things have changed but yours haven't. It's very comforting."

"My things have changed, too." Jane says it quietly, just loud enough that her teeth part and her tongue feels dry from the effort, but Maura hears it and her body instantly responds, her knees locking and her limbs tense. "Maura, I - "

"No, I know. It _is_ different, I would never suggest otherwise."

"It feels like all we're doing anymore is pretending that things haven't changed, or tripping around the fact that it's different and we're different and whatever we had is gone - "

Maura makes a strange noise, like she's reacting to a wound. Her voice is tiny and low. "Is it really gone?"

"I don't...I don't know. I thought so. I thought that was what you wanted."

Maura runs her hand through her hair, her honey locks falling through her fingers in such a way that Jane, watching mesmerized, is reminding of water in sunlight. She hates herself for always reverting to these silly poetic images when confronted with the sight of Maura, and yet she keeps falling back on the pretty words, the phrases that will never actually be as beautiful as the woman next to her.

There's a knock at the door, and Jane jumps at the memory of earlier and similar circumstances, her hand going to her hip. When she realizes her holster is unclipped and on her kitchen counter, she gets to her feet, but Maura's hand is pressed flat against her chest, a warning. Maura goes to her door, answers it, and an older man with his hand in his jacket emerges, pushes past them. Jane's about to grab Maura and pull her behind her, at least try to block her, but Maura's hands are on her hips in a confrontational stance, her feet firmly planted. Even worse, she seems to know the scrawny looking bastard.

Maura's tone is anything but friendly. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

He grins, revealing a bottom row of crooked teeth. "Lass, you've got us working overtime, did you know that? Fancy slowing it down?"

"What is that supposed to mean? You can't just come here, barge in like - "

"There's been some activity in the last hour that had me worried, and you walked right into it. What do you expect me to do? I even knocked, for fuck's sake, just to show I'm on better behavior. It's only me and Johnny, he's downstairs. Rob's on the roof across the street but I'd suggest we all stay away from windows tonight anyway." He winks. "Just in case."

Jane's reaching for her own gun, but he sees her and suddenly draws. She lifts her hands, freezes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, lass. Nothing good comes from drawing a gun at one of us, if you recall."

"I don't know who the fuck you are but I want you the fuck out of here right now."

"I'm on orders, lass, and they're to protect _her_, not you. If I think you're a threat, don't think for one second I won't fire. And don't think I don't know who you are, either. You have me to thank for every breath you're still drawin', because tain't a bullet in the world I wouldn't rather plant in you first, do you understand me?"

_Shit_. Jane knows exactly who this must be. Maura is glancing over her, and the look in her eye confirms everything. Jane had worried about whatever gang involvement Maura might have encountered after Doyle's death, but she had no idea the extent, or that they would have brought Maura under their protection. On one hand, she is washed with immediate relief, and on the other, knows that her own life is now very much at stake. These are not friendly parties to her.

"What did you mean by activity?"

"A few faces who shouldn't be following our lady around."

"Whose faces?"

His smile changes, and now his face is revealing nothing, his gun lifted like a puzzle rather than a challenge. "I don't think so, lass."

"If you want to protect her, we should be working together."

"If you want to keep enjoying the green grass of this earth, you shouldn't be making demands. I do business with all kinds of murderers, but you're the last one I'm taking orders from, you understand?"

"I lock up pieces of shit like you every day."

"And I've killed more cops than you've worked with, but since you're not going to let her fall into the wrong hands, ain't much you can do about my record, is there?"

Jane feels the rage in her swinging like a hammer against her chest, her ribcage humming. "Try me, bitch."

"Lass, you ain't capable of handling my tries."

Maura swings up her hands, lowers his gun with one and pushes Jane back with the other. Her irises are glowing in the way that only rarely reveals her deepest frustrations.

"This is ridiculous. No pissing contests, alright? You're both very effective at what you do, end of story."

Jane's starting to make fists, but Maura's expression is more than convincing. She sighs, drops her hands. "Fine. What are we supposed to do here?"

He lowers his gun, grinds his teeth. Maura gives him an expectant look until he rolls his eyes, puts the gun away. "Oh Jesus, fine!" He holds out his free hand to Jane. "Jane Rizzoli, what a pleasure. Name's Finnegan."

"_The_ Finnegan?" Jane blinks, runs the name over in her head. "Wait, you're number three for the Winter Hill - "

He waves his hand at her, rolls his eyes again. "Pleasantries have been exchanged, introduction's over. That's the first and last time we talk about anything to do with me and mine, yeah?"

"You understand the position you're putting me in here." This she directs more at Maura than Finnegan, but Maura's arms are still crossed and her stance is still defiant...a stance she is not entirely used to her in the woman beside her. "One of the most wanted men in the country is standing in my fucking foyer and I'm supposed to just sit here and take his directions for cooperation."

At this, Maura's expression finally changes, and Jane recognizes a pleading quality in her eyes. She allows herself to soften in return, but when she glances back to Finnegan she manages a scowl.

"What do you want me to do then?"

Finnegan checks his phone. "We'll be stationed outside. Keep her here, and keep watch. If you have to shoot, just make sure it's not one of ours."

"And what am I supposed to be shooting?"

"You'll know. I don't think they'll knock."

"If I was shooting intruders, I should have shot you first."

"You've already got our blood on your hands, lass. Try not to make any more of a mess, yeah?"

"I'm serious, Finnegan. What the hell am I looking for here?"

Finnegan nods towards Maura. "Ask her. She knows." He heads for the door, gives them a grin over his shoulder. "Sleep well, lasses."

Jane grabs his shirt collar just as he's about to step out. "I swear to God, Finnegan, if anything happens to her..."

Finnegan's expression has not changed, the same eerie smile in place. "That's why we're here, lass. To make sure nothing happens."

"I don't trust you."

"And I don't trust you to do my job. We'll call it even. Lock the door behind me, yeah?"

When he's left, Jane turns to Maura, who has slumped onto the couch, her head in her hands. Jane can feel the heat rising in her face, the surge of anger at herself for not seeing this coming, at Finnegan for being there. And at the same time, the terror that something could hurt Maura, that danger was already in place and she was helpless, unfocused and placed at a distance.

"Son of a bitch, Maura. Why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

Maura looks up, runs her tongue over her teeth. Jane is consumed with the sudden urge to pick her up and hold her until they start to grow into each other, their shoulders fusing.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I know. I just...it was more complicated than that."

"Is this what the other night was about? What the hell kind of trouble are you in?"

"The same trouble my father was. Turns out his inheritance was a little more...sticky than I'd imagined."

"What are they trying to do? And who?"

"Jane, please."

"I'm serious here. I want fucking answers, okay? You really think I'm just gonna go to bed not knowing who the hell is trying to break in and kill you?"

"I need you to trust me."

"Bullshit, Maura. And you know that's fucking unfair, and impractical, and just...I mean, Christ! What if I have to use my fucking gun tonight? How do I know who I'm supposed to fucking aim for? How am I supposed to protect you if you're not going to tell me anything?"

Maura's face has changed, and not just in this awful and seemingly endless moment. Jane sees that there is something undeniably different in her eyes, something that she had never see before the shooting, before Maura left and Jane fell apart. There's a stillness that has come to the surface, and the soft glimmer of something more that Jane can't put her finger on.

"Jane, I'm trying to protect you. Finnegan was challenging you. If I tell you anything, your life is worth nothing, do you understand? They're not going to look out for you, and if anything, they're looking for an opportunity to finish you off. They just need the excuse. I need you to trust me, okay? I know it's hard, I know it's everything you don't want to do, but just...please."

"Why? Seriously, Maura. At this point, why should I? How am I supposed to trust you when you've been lying all this time - "

But the soft expression is gone, and in its place, Maura's eyes have filled with hurt and anger. "You didn't give me a choice when you killed my father, Jane. Do you think I wanted this? You think I ever wanted to deal with these people or this life? The day he died was the day I ran out of choices. This is what I have to do, and it's what you have to do. You owe me this. You owe me that trust."

Jane's limbs go out. She falls into the couch, feels her muscles releasing. Maura moves aside, keeps the distance between them. Jane immediately tenses, setting her jaw.

"I'll sleep here. Just...you can sleep in my room."

"Are you...are you okay with - "

"Just go to bed, Maura."

Maura reaches across, lifts a stray hair from Jane's forehead. Jane nearly winces at the touch.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I really am."

"Go to bed, okay? I'll see you in the morning. Hopefully not any sooner."

"Jane..."

"Goodnight, Maura."

Jane settles back into the couch, fits a pillow under her head. Maura gives her one last look before heading into the bedroom, and then turns off the light.

Jane waits.


	7. The Tension

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! Life, as it often does, crept into the way of writing. So I am a mafia geek and am a little bit fascinated by organized crime - you will probably start seeing a lot of that throughout the story. And keep up the reviews and the love. It is much, much appreciated. Keeps me writing :)**

Maura does not sleep. She attempts to think of things that comfort her, of memories that she might be able to slip into when a dream cannot and will not do, but even those memories seem too distant tonight. She tries to remember being young, being happy, but the memory of holding her first beaker, reading her first medical textbook, are invaded by the first time she held a gun, the first time she fired a gun. Her memories give way to another, a nightmare in comparison, and she feels the cold chair underneath her, feels the stares of the men around the table on her as she holds out her hands as if she were still there.

_By our laws, you are already one of us. Your blood is your tie. You were born into the family, and you'll have to take your life to leave it. By blood you live, and by blood you'll die. _

A knife had sat in the center of the table. When instructed, Maura had taken it into her hands and pressed the tip into her index finger. A single crimson line had run down her palm, fallen onto the table. Each man at the table came up to her, took her hand in theirs.

Maura could feel her heart pound even at the memory of that moment.

"Jane?" She cast the name out into the night like an offering, still hoping that there would be no response, that Jane would be asleep. But there was a groan from the other room, and a shuffling of feet. Jane appeared in the doorway, her hand on her holster.

"What is it? Are they here?"

Maura sits up in bed, pulls the covers to her chest when she realizes that she is in nothing but a bra. Jane's eyes look downward for only a second, but are then at the window, the closet door. A detective first, Maura thinks, and smiles to herself, some small comfort in this thought.

"No, it's not that. I..." Maura realizes she has nothing else to say. She bites her lip, slides farther down into bed. Jane stands at a distance from the bed, the same distance they've kept since that night. Any other time and she'd already be sitting beside her, maybe have fallen asleep with her, and Maura would have spent the night all too aware of her breathing, of their elbows brushing as Jane shifted in her sleep, the soft pressure of their hips touching.

Jane lets out a long sigh. "You're not going to give me even a hint, are you?"

"What kind of hint?"

"The kind that tells me where, and who, I should be aiming for."

Maura shakes her head.

"Right. I suppose you've sworn on it or something. Girl scout's honor." Jane goes to the window, stands in the shadows so that the streetlight doesn't catch her. "And I'll just shoot whatever comes through here, is that it?"

"I'm...sorry. I've already explained myself, Jane."

"Yeah, I know." Jane shrugs, slumps to the floor, still a few feet from the bed. Maura sits up, ignores the fact that the blanket has fallen into her lap, revealing her chest. Jane makes momentary eye contact, immediately blushes and looks away. Maura notices her posture, how Jane sprawls like a teenage boy, her head angled to the side. She almost smiles at the familiar stance, the way Jane reveals her vulnerabilities in small and private ways that only Maura seems to notice.

"And I'm sorry I woke you up for nothing."

Jane lets out a dry laugh. "Trust me, I wasn't asleep." Her face softens momentarily, her eyes large when she looks up at Maura. "Were you?"

"Not really." Maura shrugs. "Insomnia is directly tied to anxiety. After a night like this, it's natural for our bodies to want to stay alert, preventing sleep in order to prevent an attack from a predator."

"You make it sound like there's a tiger in the kitchen, waiting for us to drift off."

Maura smiles. "Why does that sound preferable to our current situation?"

"I don't know. I have zero training for animal control, particularly large and dangerous animals. It would definitely be up to you."

"_Panthera tigris_."

"Bless you."

"Scientific name for the tiger. I know a bit about its anatomy, but I'm not sure I could prevent it from killing us. It's the largest of the cats, the third largest land predator."

"What's the second largest? No, wait. Don't tell me. Is it Angela Rizzoli when her kids haven't shown up to dinner yet?"

"You should be nicer to your mother, you know."

"Not this lecture, again."

Maura throws a pillow at Jane. Jane's a better catch than she anticipates, though, and throws it right back.

"You have a beautiful family. They may bring you trouble sometimes, but they always offer you love, a home. I...have always envied that."

Jane sighs, leans back. "I mean, you're a part of that home. My mother's basically adopted you. My brother considers you a sister. My other brother would prefer you not be my sister so he can do non-brotherly things with you, but whatever. And I...I can't imagine my life without you. Actually, I can, because I lived my life without you for a few months, and it was kind of fucking awful."

"Jane."

"Yeah?"

Maura sighs. "Thank you. Do you, uh...is the couch comfortable?"

"I'm not sleeping, so it doesn't really matter. Why?"

Their eyes meet, and nothing is said for a few moments. Maura's palms are curled under the blankets, her nails digging into her palms.

"I'd better go back in the other room." Jane gets to her feet, goes to the doorway. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Maura feels the words tripping out of her mouth before she can stop them. "You can sleep here if you want, it doesn't - "

Jane puts up a hand, shakes her head. "Please don't finish that sentence, Maur. Just...please don't ask me that."

"I'm just - "

"You and I both know why that would be a problem."

"Jane."

"I'm going in the other room, okay? Try to get some sleep."

Maura listens to her feet on the floor, the sound of the springs in the couch as Jane slams her weight into them. She takes a deep breath, counts backwards. The white dot in the center of her fingerprint is still slightly raised.

_This isn't the end, lass. It's your blood, but it's someone else's, too. They kill our soldiers, so we kill theirs. Your father would have wanted it this way, and you're your father's daughter, ain't ye?_

Maura closes her eyes, sees the pleading face in front of her, sees the man on his knees, begging for her to give him his life. Her finger twitches where it had been pricked, where it had paused on the trigger before finally giving way.

She doesn't want to be alone, but here she is.

R&I R&I R&I

Jane wants to pound a hole in a wall. She wants to get up and smash every object in sight, put a bullet through all the windows. What the fuck were you thinking, Jane?

Does she want to get in that bed? Of course she wants to fucking get in that bed. She wants to get in that bed like her life depends on it, but look at her, taking the high road. Pretending like she can totally handle herself and just sit on this couch without blinking an eye. Pretending like she doesn't want to throw herself on that bed and do something to solve all this tension in the air.

Fucking fuckity fuck.

The thing is that she can't go there right now. The thing is that maybe there are armed men outside who want to kill them, and maybe that should be taking priority. The thing is that she can't trust Maura farther than she can throw her because Maura's not telling her one damn thing about this particular evening, and that's a problem. The thing is also that Jane can't explain how one woman can make her this confused, this excited, this obsessive, this aroused.

Her whole body aches like an overbothered trigger finger. She wants to crawl the walls and jump every fence in the world. She feels like being fifteen again and running the length of the field, grass in between her fingers from touching the lines, mud on her calves. She wishes that she could shrug this onto her shoulders and sprint it out like all the issues she had when she was a teenager. If she couldn't run it away, she could tackle it away in the form of the next overeager player with a ball she wanted.

There's a sound at the door. Jane hears it because every single one of her senses are on fire, and because she's a detective. This is what she does, right? She serves and protects. She is loyal, alert, a barrier between good and evil. And if something is trying to hurt Maura, then she has no problem jumping in the way just like every other time.

The doorknob tilts, a few clicks on the other side. As a head emerges around the other side in the dark, Jane's gun is out and her hand goes for the collar, knocks the temple with her elbow.

"What the everloving fuck!" A familiar voice starts to curse, and Jane takes a step back, her gun still drawn. She switches on the light in the living room. Maura is standing in the doorway to her bedroom, but when she identifies the culprit, she lets out a noise and runs back inside to cover up.

"Rookie?"

Teddy Martin looks up at Jane, nursing her forehead. "Hey, boss. Funny running into you here."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I definitely have an explanation, and it is definitely a good one." Teddy points to the gun in Jane's hands. "Any chance you could put that down first?"

"I wish I could describe this night to you in a single word, rookie, but "hell" doesn't even come close. So no, let's hear your story first."

"You're gonna wanna sit down."

"Am I?"

"I know how this looks, but you can trust me. I mean, I'm not going to tell anyone that you and Maura are sleeping together. Which, by the way, props on hitting up a ten, boss."

"Detective Rizzoli and I are not sleeping together." Maura emerges from the bedroom again, a blanket over her shoulders. "We're in a difficult situation and I was forced to stay here." Maura shoots a look at Jane. Jane rolls her eyes, as she cannot honestly believe her fucking luck tonight.

"You were saying, rookie."

"This is actually about that difficult situation. I assume you're talking about the visit from Finnegan and company."

Maura's eyes narrow. Jane's arm starts to get heavy, but now she feels especially compelled to keep the gun drawn.

Teddy shrugs, gives them a hopeful smile. "In the past, I have...maybe not been completely honest about my friends."

"Now would be a great time to open up, rookie."

"It's a long story, and like I said, you might want to put down the gun. I'm very much on your side of the situation, ladies. And I am definitely a cop, I didn't fake my way through the academy or anything. I just might have left out some details about who, or what organization, funded that journey."

"So you're in the Irish mob?"

"Not exactly. I'm a little more like Dr. Isles. I'm not in the mob itself, but the mob does own me. And I may or may not be one of your assigned guardians. You're not going to like this, boss, but there's a price on your head that's pretty darn sky high. I'm just trying to make sure your ass isn't grass, okay? The Italians want Dr. Isles, the Irish want you. Luckily, Dr. Isles has been pretty gracious in making sure they don't lay a finger on you...yet. I'm not saying they make no promises, but they kind of fucking don't make promises. Anyway, sorry for breaking in. The boys told me to drop by, just in case you needed an extra gun tonight."

Jane lets out a sigh, finally setting down her gun. "This night is actually hell, isn't it?"

"Naw, they haven't started trying to kill you yet. That's gonna be the real shit."


End file.
